Will Work For Love
Page 10
“When I was a kid, my favorite story was Robin Hood.”
“Sherwood Forest.”
“Yep. Seems like a good name for a wood boat.”
“And do you identify with Robin Hood or the Sheriff of Nottingham?” Whitney asked quizzically.
“I’m definitely a Robin Hood type,” he said. If only she knew how much, he thought.
****
Whitney stood next to Chris for a while as he piloted the boat out of the small harbor and then began tracing a line around the island just far enough away from any swimmers but close enough so she could see the homes and beaches easily from a different perspective.
Chris stood up and rested one hand on the wheel while wrapping the other arm around her waist. He kissed her cheek, laughing as a long piece of brown hair whipped across his eyes and made him swerve the boat. Whitney lost her balance temporarily and he tightened his grip on her.
“Beautiful,” he said.
“It is,” she agreed.
“I mean you.”
Whitney felt a hot flash of hunger race over her when he touched his tongue to hers. She felt his hand move over her breast, teasing her and promising more.
“Are you watching where we’re going?”
“Who cares where we’re going?” he answered huskily as he leaned in to claim her lips for a moment before withdrawing with a groan. “But, I guess I could throw out the anchor.”
“Somewhere where we can be alone,” she said.
Chris steered the Sherwood into a small cove that looked deserted. He cut the engine and threw the anchor overboard. The late afternoon sun was still warm. Whitney sat on the vinyl bench seat spanning the back of the boat and watched Chris secure the anchor. They were totally alone in the fading light on a softly rocking boat. The blue water was probably warm enough for a swim, but that wasn’t what Whitney wanted to dive into.
“I haven’t shown you all of the boat,” Chris said.
“What else is there?”
“Cuddy cabin. In case you ever want to sleep on board.”
“Show me,” Whitney said.
Chris went through a small door next to the captain’s chair. Whitney followed him and found a small bedroom with a low bed that took up almost the entire space. Small windows ringed the top of the cabin and Chris opened a hatch that led up to the top deck. Whitney realized that if she stood on the bed, she would be able to stick her head out the hatch and look around. Not what she planned to do on the bed.
She barely had time to notice any other details because Chris’ nearness was all she could think about. She turned into his arms and reached up to pull his head down to hers. He was already leaning down because he was too tall to stand in the cabin, their lips found each other’s, hungrily taking what they wanted.
Their mouths and tongues intertwined and their hands roved over each other, feeding the fire of their need. Whitney ran her hands under Chris’ shirt and her fingers played over his warm muscular back. When he did the same thing to her, it was like a catalyst starting a chemical reaction. She didn’t know if she pulled off her shirt or if he did, but they were both shirtless a moment later, reveling in the feeling of skin on skin. In seconds, they were totally naked and Whitney felt the cool fabric of the bed against her back. More importantly, she felt hot skin against her front.
Had she stopped to notice, she would have felt the boat rocking with the passion of their contact. His lips moved slowly down the front of her body. Whitney forced herself to breathe. She knew where those kisses were going. He took her breast in his teeth while he rolled her other nipple between his fingers. She closed her eyes. She was torn between wanting the sensation to go on all night and begging him to move farther and faster down her body.
“Say the word,” he whispered huskily.
“Yes,” she said.
He looked like he wouldn’t be able to take much more. He knelt between her thighs and leaned over her.
“I’ve been dying to do this all day,” he said.
****
A little while later, they both awoke from a brief, deep nap.
“Again,” he said raggedly. “I could make love to you a thousand times.”
Whitney giggled. “We’d get hungry,” she said.
“I brought food. It might last us a while if we ration it.”
Whitney looked up through the open hatch above her. “It’s starting to get dark,” she said.
“I can feel my way in the dark,” he said, brushing his fingers over her breast to prove his point.
“Other boats won’t run into us?” she asked.
Chris stopped toying with her body and leaned on one elbow. “Good point,” he said. “I’ll turn on the running lights while I get the food basket.”
He stepped into a pair of shorts and disappeared into the darkness. Whitney slipped his discarded T-shirt over her head before following him up on deck.
“Let’s eat out here,” she suggested.
Chris flipped a switch on the control panel and red and green lights appeared down the sides of the boat. He sat down next to her on the vinyl seat and put the picnic basket between them. Whitney opened the basket and pulled out sandwiches wrapped in aluminum foil, a bag of potato chips, and two beers.
“Hope you like it.”
“It’s perfect.”
“I should make you give me back my shirt,” he said.
“Are you cold?”
“Nope. It’s just a shame to cover up such a beautiful body.”
“Maybe I’ll let you earn it back later. But I’ll warn you, you’ll have to take it off me.”
“I like the sound of that.”
They ate their sandwiches and chips as the sun slowly sank into the water and disappeared. It was almost totally dark except for the port and starboard running lights on the small boat. Whitney didn’t need light to know that Chris’ eyes never left her face, except to trail down her body on occasion. She put her feet in his lap as he opened her beer and handed it to her. She drank the cold beer, luxuriating in the warm breeze that softly whispered in the wake of the departed sun.
Chris finished his beer and began to rub her feet, kneading with his strong hands until she would have done anything for him or let him do anything to her. She closed her eyes and let the sensual waves of delight run up her legs and across her body until she wanted him just as much as she had almost an hour ago.
She opened her eyes and realized he was watching her face. “Have I earned back that shirt yet?” he asked.
“Take it off me,” she said.
His hands slid from her feet and all the way up her body, working a little magic as they went. The shirt was quickly thrown aside and forgotten as the Sherwood rocked vigorously then gently on waves of desire and satisfaction.
Chapter Fifteen
Whitney must have fallen asleep. She dreamed about phantom men working at East Pointe. She could clearly see a skinny older man measuring and sawing, but a broad shouldered blond man edged around the shadows on the outsides of her dream where she could never see his face.
A small movement awakened her; she opened her eyes in time to see Chris’ broad shoulders in the doorway to the cuddy cabin as he went up the two steps. She gasped, startled by the similarity to her dream. For a moment, she imagined him as the shadowy man. He stopped and turned toward her when he heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, “I guess I was just a little disoriented when I woke up.”
“Me, too,” he said. “I have no idea how long I was asleep, but we were both out for a while.”
“Must be the rocking,” Whitney said.
“Among other things,” Chris replied. Even in the darkness, Whitney could tell he was smiling. He turned to continue out on deck, and she noticed he wore his blue shirt. She thought of her dream. Odd, she thought, shaking her head. Whitney found her clothes and pulled them on, needing to get her bearings after being so carried away for the last se
veral hours. Making love and sleeping on a boat in a hidden harbor in the dark with an achingly handsome man. No one at home would believe her.
She finished dressing and went on deck. “The lights are out,” she said.
“I know. Must’ve killed the battery.”
Chris had a panel in the floor pulled up and he shone a flashlight down into it.
“Can I help?” Whitney asked.
“Should be no problem. I’ve got a spare battery.”
“If the boat won’t start,” Whitney said lightly, “we may have to stay here until someone rescues us. Maybe they won’t find us until tomorrow morning.”
Chris put down the flashlight and looked up at Whitney. He stood and kissed her gently on the lips. “God, how I would love that,” he said with a trace of regret.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Well, you see, I’m helping a friend get a fancy-ass estate ready for a fancy-ass wedding in just a few days. If we don’t get back to work at some point, the wedding party will be wearing hard hats.”
Whitney sighed. “I guess you’ve got me there. I’ll hold the flashlight.”
Chris finished whatever he was doing and put the cover back into place. He took back the flashlight and used it to find the key then turn it in the ignition. Nothing happened. He tried it again. And again. Still nothing. No sound of an engine starting or even vaguely trying to start. Just silence. Actually, it wasn’t total silence. One sound carried softly on the warm darkened tropical air. It was Chris swearing quietly as he tried turning the key one more time.
“Looks like we’re going to have to swim it in,” Chris said.
Whitney looked at the pitch-black water and pictured sea monsters of all descriptions. She could almost feel slimy creatures brushing her legs in the dark and hauling her off to the depths to scare her to death before eating her waterlogged body.
“Can you steer?” Chris asked.
“Steer?”
“The boat.”
“Oh, sure. I guess that means I’ll be staying in the boat.”
She heard him chuckling quietly in the dark then felt his warm hands surround her. His lips grazed her forehead.
“I wouldn’t ask you to do my dirty work,” he said, “I like you too much.” He pointed toward some lights on shore, probably two hundred feet away. “We’re headed for that light.”
“Is that where your car is?” Whitney was totally disoriented in the unfamiliar location and darkness.
“Nope, we’ll have to figure that out when we get there.”
Chris hauled in the anchor, took off his clothes, and jumped into the water with a rope. To Whitney’s surprise, the boat started, slowly at first, to move toward the lights on shore. She didn’t know how good a swimmer you had to be to pull a boat, but Chris was putting those impressive shoulders to work. First the revolving door, and now this. Maybe she ought to seriously think about hiring him as a model for her sportswear business. He looked like a man who definitely worked out. He would look fantastic in everything and nothing at all.
Slowly, they moved toward shore. Whitney called out to Chris a few times to ask if he was okay. The lights were much closer, and she could barely make out a small light at the end of what looked like an empty dock. Chris was almost to the dock. He crawled out of the water and on to the dock, reeling the boat in. Whitney felt a whoosh of relief when she felt the boat bump gently against the dock and then again when it was securely tied.
Chris stood naked in the dim glow from the lone light at the end of the dock. Whitney couldn’t help staring. Had it only been a little while ago they were entangled in each other’s arms exploring every part of their bodies? Now, he seemed distant. Maybe it was the boat trouble and the darkness that crept between them.
“You can’t believe how often I get rescued by naked guys who can swim,” she said lightly.
“How about getting stranded by idiots who leave their lights on and kill their batteries?” he said.
“Sorry, I wouldn’t give those guys the time of day.”
Chris stepped back on the boat and took Whitney in his arms. He was naked and soaking wet. He was still breathing a little heavy from swimming the boat in to the dock. She felt him shiver a little in the night air, and it sent a tremor down her body.
“Sorry,” he said, releasing her and stepping back a little, “I’m getting you all wet.”
“I’m a tough girl, I can take it.”
He stepped closer again and kissed her deeply. It was a kiss full of longing, a kiss that seemed to recognize that the romantic part of the night was over and was going to be sacrificed on the altar of practical problems.
“I have to make a phone call,” he said finally, “or we’ll be here all night.”
“And the problem would be?” She said playfully, even though she knew they had to do something practical. They had to get working on the finish carpentry, fresh paint, and paving stones to get the wedding area ready.
She wanted to stop him from making a phone call, but she didn’t. She wanted to throw all practicality to the wind and dig in her heels and continue to enjoy the freedom she felt with Chris, especially rocking in the small harbor in the tropical sea. But she didn’t.
She watched as Chris searched for his clothes in the darkness. He picked up his shorts and dug through the pockets, finally finding a cell phone. When he flipped it open, it made an unnatural bluish glow in the darkness of the boat, ending their romantic night with its intrusion.
****
Making this call was the last thing on earth Chris wanted to do. Why couldn’t he just stay there all night enjoying Whitney’s company and her body? He never wanted to let her go. But he was stuck.
He knew the day of reckoning was coming as soon as he realized she was there to get East Pointe in shape and it was his fault it wasn’t. The showdown was going to happen sooner or later. He had just hoped for later.
The phone call he was about to make was the only one he could. Of all the people he knew who could find him and bail him out tonight, only Rick Churchill would be the one. His best friend and foreman would save him and doom him at the same time. As soon as Whitney saw Rick, she would put the whole story together and he didn’t even want to think about her reaction. Would she think he was just using her? Would she take down him and his whole company?
Playing with fire had just turned dangerous and he would be feeling the pain in only a few minutes.
He dialed the number, feeling Whitney’s eyes on him. He knew she could sense his tension, and he desperately wanted to reach out to her and tell her that he’d never meant to hurt her or deceive her. If he could only explain himself, would she even listen? He wondered what she was thinking as she watched him dial the phone.
“Rick? It’s Chris. Got a little trouble and I need a favor.”
He described the location of the dock where the Sherwood was tied up and asked him to come get them. Rick asked no questions. It would only be a matter of minutes before Rick would show up driving a Blue Isle Construction truck. It was the only vehicle he had.
There was going to be a lot of explaining to do. If he even got the chance.
“Is your friend coming to pick us up?” Whitney asked. She had stood silently as he talked to Rick on the phone.
“He’ll be here in just a few minutes.”
“He must be a good friend.”
“Uh-huh.”
Whitney reached up and put her hands on his shoulders. “I’m sorry the night is ending badly, but I want to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed it anyway,” she said.
“Me, too,” he said.
Chris tried to school his thoughts. He was standing totally naked in the dark on his boat with a beautiful, desirable woman whom he had just made love to. Twice. She was in his arms telling him how much she liked it. He wanted to hold her against his body and say what was in his heart, but he felt like a man who saw a boulder rolling downhill toward him and was too paralyzed to get out of the way.
Chris heard an engine rumble and tires on gravel then he saw headlights at the end of the dock. He stepped on to the dock and reached out a hand to help Whitney off the boat. Pausing as she joined him on the dock, he kissed her again. He wanted to remember it.
A truck door slammed and Rick’s slim body was silhouetted in the headlights. Chris recognized his friend immediately, of course, but he doubted that Whitney would until they got up close. Then all hell would break loose. He knew Rick would say next to nothing, but he didn’t have to. The game would be over. And he knew he would lose.
Chris kept Whitney’s hand in his as they walked down the dock. His shoulders ached from swimming and pulling the heavy wooden boat, but it was the tension that was really causing the muscles in his neck and back to kill him. Only a few more steps and Whitney would start asking questions. She was smart; it wouldn’t take very many questions for her to figure him out completely. If only she would give him a chance to explain. But he knew he didn’t deserve that, not where she was concerned.
Chapter Sixteen
Despite being safely at the dock, Whitney couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. As soon as he made that phone call, Chris changed completely. He acted like a weight was hanging over him and the way he held her and kissed her made it seem like it was for the last time. Good God, did he have a wife and kids at home? Did he just call his brother-in-law or something? The man’s name was Rick. Of course it wasn’t a terribly unusual name, but she also met a man named Rick last Monday when the owner of Blue Isle came out to East Pointe. That would be too much of a coincidence, though, even on an island.
She walked down the dock with Chris and saw a thin man outlined by the headlights, waiting for them. Chris’ grip on her hand tightened. When she got close enough to see the man’s face, she stopped.